


Something Different Now

by taigae



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taigae/pseuds/taigae
Summary: A translation error causes a mixup, and Janeway and Chakotay must pretend to be married for the evening.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 44
Kudos: 120
Collections: Star Trek Rom Com





	Something Different Now

He tugs at his cuffs as he arrives at her door. They’re a little tighter than he’s used to — it’s been awhile since he’s worn a proper suit, but the Alkani minister had insisted. It’s a welcome banquet, after all, and they’ve been jumping through every hoop he's asked them to. The Alkani are wealthy beyond belief, with ample reserves of deuterium — and Voyager is in desperate need. He rolls his shoulders, feeling the seams tug slightly, and reminds himself that it’s only for one night. 

He presses the panel next to her door, and it hisses open, revealing an empty room. “Kathryn?” he calls, taking a few steps into her quarters. 

“Come in!” she calls from the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll just be a moment!”

He wanders over to the couch and is just about to sit when she appears, still barefoot, hands raised to her ear, fiddling with an earring. He stops in his tracks, struck dumb. Her hair is swept up off of her neck in an elegant twist, and she's wearing a long black dress that he’s certain he's never seen before. He would have remembered it. 

“Sorry, I’m running a little late. Would you like anything before we go? Coffee? Tea?” She’s looking at him expectantly, and it takes him a moment to realize she's waiting for a response. He shakes himself. 

“No, thank you.” He pauses, still having trouble stringing his words together. She cocks her head quizzically, and he smiles at the familiar gesture. “You look lovely.”

She dips her head humbly, but he knows her well enough to catch the glimmer of pride that crosses her face before she quickly draws it back in.

“Thank you,” she teases. “You look rather handsome yourself. Maybe we should start instituting black tie Fridays.”

“It would certainly keep things interesting,” he says, grinning.

“Yes, I imagine it would. Do you mind?” she asks, walking over to him and holding out a bracelet. “I always have trouble doing this clasp myself.”

“Not at all.” He takes it from her and takes hold of her hand, gently positioning her wrist flat and beginning to wrap the delicate chain around it, his fingers brushing softly against her skin. She’s close enough that he can feel her warmth, can smell the perfume she’s donned for the occasion. His fingers slip at the clasp a little, and he bends down to get a closer look at the mechanism. The scent grows stronger — a soft, shimmering floral. She must have applied it at her wrist. He’s struck by their easy intimacy, the secondhand nature of it. He knows he’s taking a little too long, but he can’t help it — something in him wants to stay in this moment forever.

The clasp finally clicks, and he draws up, but doesn’t let go. A flush has settled across her cheeks, and his gaze drifts to her lips. Something shifts in the air. He’s mere seconds away from doing something he’ll regret when the door chimes, startling both of them. He drops her hand. She steps away. 

“Come in!” she calls.

It opens, revealing Neelix – in what might be the most garish suit Chakotay has ever seen. “Captain! Commander! Just the two people I was hoping to find! Don’t the two of you just look wonderful.” His voice is tight, and he’s shifting back and forth on his feet. He’s nervous. Chakotay sees the captain cock her head, and knows that she has clocked it too. 

She smiles. “Thank you, Mr. Neelix. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well, the thing is, and really it’s just a minor detail, but, uh, you see, well –”

“Spit it out, Neelix,” she interrupts, authority sharpening her voice, shifting into full command mode.

“There may have been a, ah, slight miscommunication during our initial contact with the Alkani,” he says. His eyes dart back and forth nervously between the two of them. 

“A miscommunication?” She places her hands on her hips and levels her gaze at him. Out of regulation boots she’s a few inches shorter than usual, but her gaze is still withering. Chakotay finds himself glad it isn’t currently trained on him. “What kind of miscommunication, exactly?”

Neelix wrings his hands again, and launches into it. “Well, in our initial conversations, during our introductions, we explained the ship’s hierarchy. That explanation included your command partnership. Standard procedure and all that. But the universal translator didn’t quite, ah, get it right.”

She raises an eyebrow and waits for him to continue. 

“The word ‘partner’ — it wasn’t a precise translation. It means something, well, something rather different to them than the context in which we were using it. I had thought it extended to a working partnership, in a leadership sense, but apparently, they think,” he stammers for a moment. “Well, the closest approximation I can come up with is that they think the two of you are married.”

His words hang in the air for a tense moment, and then she chuckles. “Well, then we’ll just explain that we aren’t.” She folds her arms and looks back at Chakotay for confirmation. He nods, and she turns back to Neelix. “Either I’m missing something, or this isn’t exactly mission critical.”

He gulps. “Ah, I’m afraid that’s not advisable, captain. From what I gather, it would be deeply offensive to the Alkani to recant at this point. They take this kind of thing very seriously.”

“So, what exactly are you proposing?” she asks.

“Well, I think the best thing to do now would be for the two of you to just… act…” he pauses. “Well, married.”

“You want us to lie to them?”

“A white lie. Just a small one. But, well… yes.” 

“And you honestly believe, with all of your experience and expertise, that this is the most optimal solution.”

“Yes, captain,” he responds. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, before glancing back at Chakotay. 

“We need the deuterium,” he says.

She nods. “We do.” 

He considers for a moment. “It’s just for the evening. I bet we could get away with it for at least an hour or two.” 

“Oh, thanks very much for that vote of confidence,” she replies, raising an eyebrow. She sighs and turns back to Neelix. “Fine,” she says. 

“Very good, captain. I do apologize for the misunderstanding, if there’s any–”

She holds up her hand to cut him off. “That’ll be all, Neelix.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods again and scurries away.

“And Neelix,” she calls, voice icy, just as he’s about to reach the door. “Make sure this never happens again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods and practically sprints away. She sighs, raising a hand to massage her temple.

Chakotay laughs. “Poor guy. He’ll be quaking in his boots for the next week.”

“Serves him right,” she responds. “We can’t be making assumptions in first contact situations — especially not out here. Thankfully it was something trivial this time, but that could have been a real problem. Maybe he needs a little more diplomatic training after all.”

“Trivial?”

She laughs and swats at his arm. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckles. “I do.”

__________

He watches her from across the room. If he’s being honest, he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of her since the moment she walked through the door in her quarters. Usually he would try to be a little more subtle, but given the circumstances, it doesn't seem worth the effort. This time he has plausible deniability.

She's deep in conversation with the minister and his wife, or _partner_ , as it would be, and he can see, even from a distance, that she's wielding every ounce of her considerable charm: tilting her head, batting her eyes, touching them gently on the arm every now and again. Over the years he's grown accustomed to watching her flirt through diplomatic negotiations when she senses that it would be advantageous. Time and time again, he's watched her subtly wind the object of her attentions around her finger until they’d promise her each and every moon in orbit if it were theirs to give. He's become adept at shaking off the sharp, inevitable stab of jealousy that arises — it's an ugly response, and one he wishes didn't come quite so easily. But he has to admit — he’s finding it a little harder to shake it off tonight. 

It takes him a moment to realize that someone is speaking to him. 

“Sorry?” he asks, turning back to Harry and B’Elanna. 

“Mhm,” B’Elanna responds, a smirk on her face. “You know, Tom already has already started a betting pool for this little charade of yours.”

Of course everyone already knows. It’s hard to keep a secret on a small ship, especially a secret as compelling as this particular mixup. Of course, it doesn’t help that Neelix had been panicking about it all day and had asked half the crew for advice before approaching the two of them.

“Oh?” he asks.

“Mmm,” she responds, nonchalantly taking a sip of her drink. “I’ve got an hour of holodeck time riding on your hand around her waist, so if you want to go ahead and up the ante there I’d be grateful.”

“B’Elanna!” Harry looks like he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

“What?” she laughs. “I saw your bet, Harry. If we don’t start throwing this thing we’re both going to be out of the running, and I’ve been dying to try that free climbing program that’s been making the rounds.”

“Is this true, ensign?” Chakotay asks, lowering his voice to his full command register just to make Harry nervous.

Harry begins to stammer, and B’Elanna just laughs.

He chuckles. “Remind me to assign Tom two weeks of gamma shift rotation at the next possible opportunity.”

“You got it,” she replies. 

He glances back over towards the captain, and catches her eye from across the room. She smiles at him, and his heart stutters for a moment. She leans back towards the minister and his wife, saying something that makes them both laugh, and the three begin to make their way towards them. 

“B’Elanna,” Harry says, never taking his eyes off the approaching captain, “I think Tom is looking for us.”

“Hmm?” She looks up at him questioningly.

“Yep. Definitely. We should go find him.”

She laughs “Harry–”

“Let’s _go_ , B’Elanna.” He’s already tugging at her arm. 

“Alright, alright!” She rolls her eyes at Chakotay and says, “Remember – hand on waist.” 

Harry loops his arm through hers and practically pulls her away. “Come on!”

“Thank you very much!” she calls over her shoulder, laughing, and then they’re absorbed into the crowd. 

Suddenly he's enveloped in that familiar, shimmering floral and feels a hand warm on his chest. Before he’s even turned back she has leaned up to press her lips softly to his cheek in greeting, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His breath catches. 

“Hi,” she says, hand sliding back down his chest, eyes dancing conspiratorially.

“Hi,” He responds, smiling.

“What was that about?” She nods in the direction of where Harry and B’Elanna had run off. 

“Nothing important,” he replies. 

She raises an eyebrow in question and he responds with a slight shake of the head, signaling that he’ll tell her later. It’s all she needs. She turns back to the minister and his wife. “I believe you’ve already met our gracious host for the evening,” the minister bows his head, “but we wanted to introduce you to his lovely partner.”

The minister’s wife extends her hand and he takes it, bowing slightly. They exchange introductions, settling into the comfortable patterns and standard niceties of first contact small talk. 

He tunes out after awhile and looks across the room, searching, until he spots B’Elanna standing over by the bar with Tom and Harry. He catches her eye, subtly holds up his hand, and wraps his arm around the captain to place it deliberately on her waist. B’Elanna laughs, and raises her glass in recognition. Then she turns back to Tom and Harry, most likely to gloat. No doubt the three of them are having the time of their lives watching this particular game unfold. 

He returns his attention to the conversation, and she’s staring up at him. His stomach drops as he realizes he may have overstepped. He’s just about to remove his hand when she leans into him, and turns back to the conversation. He lets out a breath and doesn’t miss the tug of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. They settle into each other, as natural as breathing.

“So, how did the two of you meet?” The minister’s wife is glancing between the two of them curiously.

“Well, as it happens that’s a rather long story,” the captain demurs. “You see –”

“She saved me.” He doesn’t know where it comes from. Something about her proximity and the absurdity of the situation they've found themselves in is making him bold. She looks up at him, mouth slightly agape.

“And my crew,” he continues. He tells them the story, weaving in the relevant details, omitting the private ones. By the time he’s finished, the minister’s wife has placed her hand over her chest, seemingly struck by the tale. 

“Oh, how romantic,” she responds. “And did you know immediately, that you loved her?”

He feels her tense under his palm, notes the shift in her bearing, but it’s too late now. He’s backed into a corner, with only one way out. 

“Not at first,” he replies. “But day after day, watching her navigate this impossible situation,” he pauses. “It didn’t take long.”

“And you, captain?” she asks. “When did you know?” The color drains from her face. Somehow, without their noticing, they’ve slipped into dangerous territory. This isn’t a game anymore. She hesitates, panics. 

“Would you all excuse me for just a moment?” Her smile is tight, and she’s already starting to pull away. “I’m suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded.” She slips from his grasp, walking quickly towards where the room opens out onto the courtyard. He sees every eye in the room on her as she weaves through the crowd, feels the oppressive weight of the crew’s curiosity. 

“Is she unwell?” The minister asks. “Should I call for a medic?”

“I don’t think so,” he replies. “I’m sure she just needs some air. I’ll go make sure she’s alright. Excuse me.” He bows slightly and follows after her, grabbing a glass of something cold and clear off of the tray of one of the waiters circling the room on the way. 

__________

He finds her leaning against the stone banister, looking out at the glittering cityscape. He comes up beside her and hands her the glass without a word. He gets a whiff of it, medicinal, as she holds it up to her neck, the cool weight of it soothing her pulse point.

“And what exactly was that supposed to be?” she asks, voice cool.

“You’re angry?”

She doesn’t look at him, but he sees the muscle of her jaw jump. Very angry, then. 

He shakes his head, looking back out over the city. This is an out. He could lie, right here. She’d never believe it, of course, but he could do it, and they could go back to pretending — pretending that they’re just friends, that there’s nothing between them, that nothing happened on that planet. That it was all a different life. But he’s tired — the kind of tired that has settled into his very bones — and he knows deep down that they can’t keep this up for the next seventy years. “The truth, I suppose,” he says.

She sighs, something in her breaking, her anger giving way. “Yes,” she says softly. “Yes, that’s what I thought.” She won’t meet his eye. It breaks his heart. A breeze whispers by and she shivers. Without thinking, he slips out of his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. 

They stay like that for awhile, taking in the glittering city stretching out below them, all the way out to the distant sea. The breeze picks up, carrying the salt air and the distant sounds of the city up meet them. It tugs gently at her hair. She sips at her drink and worries her thumb at the rim of it. He waits. The silence doesn’t bother him. He has always been a patient man.

“I’m sorry,” she says, finally, her voice catching on the words.

He glances over in surprise, and sees that her eyes are shining with unshed tears. He shifts his weight and nudges her gently, shifting her off-balance, breaking the tension. She smiles and shakes her head. He doesn't miss the way she swipes quickly at her eyes, but he lets it be. They settle back into companionable silence. 

“You know,” he says, “sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about this.”

She rolls her eyes at him and he chuckles, rueful, knowing that his words have tugged at a worn memory for both of them. 

She’s quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure I know how.”

He looks over at her. “I know this has always been easier for you –”

She scoffs. "Is that what you think?" When he doesn't respond, she turns to him, searching his gaze, and realization dawns across her face. “You really believe that, don't you?”

He feels a sense of vertigo, as if the ground is shifting underneath him. He had assumed that she had long ago moved on from whatever it was that they had been to each other — that she had cut out her errant hurt like a malignancy and washed her hands of it. But now she’s looking up at him with tears welling in her eyes, confusion on her face, and he knows — as sure as he’s ever known anything — that he’s gotten it wrong. 

So he does the only thing that makes sense to him — he wraps his arms around her, pulls her close, and finally, _finally_ , kisses her. After a moment of surprise she responds, her mouth opening beneath his and her hands clutching at his chest. He’s lost in her, dizzy with the feel of her, warm and pliant against his mouth, and when she moans it shoots through him like lightning. He dips his head to nuzzle at her neck, tracing his lips down to where his jacket has slipped off her shoulder. 

She tries to catch her breath. “Chakotay,” she murmurs. He traces his lips back across her shoulder, and she tilts her head back, unable to resist the feel of his lips against her jaw. “Chakotay,” she says, this time more insistent, and he pulls back to look at her — flushed, lips swollen, hair falling around her face. It ignites something in him that burns hard and fast as a wildfire.

“Someone’s going to see,” she says, breathless.

He traces his thumb across her jaw. “Let them,” he murmurs. He kisses her again, pressing her up against the banister, certain he’d rather drown in her than ever let her go. 

__________

“I win.” Harry slides up to the high top table where he, Tom, and B’Elanna have been idly chatting, depositing the round he’s just retrieved from the bar.

“No, B’Elanna won,” Tom replies casually, taking one of the drinks.

“Yeah,” she says. “I won.” She’s about to take a sip when something on Harry’s face gives her pause. She glances over towards the tall windows just off of the bar that lead out to the courtyard. “Why?” she asks suspiciously. “What did you see?”

“None of your business,” he replies. “But I win, and you both owe me holodeck time, and you’re just going to have to trust me on this one, and we’re leaving it at that.”

“Sorry, Harry,” B’Elanna says, teasing, “but I won this one fair and square. I’m gonna need a little –“ She stops mid-sentence as they spot the captain and the commander across the room. The three of them track the pair — both looking ever so slightly tousled — as they make their way over to the minister and his wife, and exchange what seem to be goodbye pleasantries. She leans up to murmur something to him, and he nods in response, dipping his head briefly to her ear, a small smile on his face. Then they weave their way back through the crowd, his hand on the small of her back, and exit out the side door that leads back to the transport site. 

Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment as they process what they’ve just seen. 

“So you’ll tell me if that climbing program is good?” B’Elanna asks.

Harry just smirks into his drink. “You bet.”

**Author's Note:**

> written for the star trek rom com event. this was super fun - thanks to the mods for organizing!


End file.
